It was dark, and my flashlights dying batteries only allowed for enough light to show the breath turn into cloud in front of my face. I shivered, and my lips turned blue as I changed my clothes. I would've thought that I was in some kind of meat locker had it not been for the fact that I was standing at my wall locker changing. That and the fact that I'm not so delirious to think that I walked into a meat locker that now existed where my room once was. I guess it's just Duffy trying to acclimatize for his leave come December in Chicago. Damn it's cold.
The air conditioning is no longer a problem, obviously. We even unplugged one because of how efficient they are. The food situation isn't bad either. It's not the Loyalty robust food bar, with a following of deserts, but it's the usual three meals a day with no limitations on serving size that we didn't have up at 763. Football, and Super-Sized is the American way. We finally are living like it.
You are probably wondering why I mentioned that moral is so low if the standard of living is now so high? And standard is probably right word to use. In the military, there is much expected of you. Simple tasks, and difficult ones, and a mix of both. For instance, clean shaven every morning, physically fit, being on time and in the proper uniform are some of the easy ones. Difficult ones; carrying a wounded battle buddy, administering first aid, or running with 100+ pounds of gear into a 'fire-fight.' Text book they don't have too much that could be deemed difficult. However, you can't learn intestinal fortitude or courage in a book, which deems those things the difficult tasks.
We do our job very well, this platoon. Perhaps even the best within our battalion and further. Our personal standards are usually higher than those who we are colleagues with, and our mission preparation, determination and aptitude for succeeding are certainly higher, which all ego aside, leaves a chip on our shoulders that we don't mind having. We can do all this, we can go out and kick ass like we have all deployment. We haven't stacked bodies or killed babies, but we've done the task we've been given the entire deployment over here, and completed it to standard and even to above-standard. Our platoon in the process has alienated itself from the rest of everyone else. We like it that way in most respects. Because we are usually left alone, and have been all year. Showing up to a place like this, surrounded by those who only enforce the standards to those below them, who are cowards and hypocrites can certainly be a swift kick to where the sun don't shine. Seattle, Washington.
We've been busier, not because we have done anything wrong, or that we have any more of a force pro requirement, but because we have to play the 'game.' It's not the kind that Michael Douglas had too, but it might as well be. Standards in haircuts and uniform used to be more of a garrison issue. The lack of amenities and luxuries don't necessarily allow for barber shops, or washing machines or anything else that can allow a proper appearance like that in which you hold yourself to in garrison. This battalion seems to require the same regardless. Eye protection is a mandatory anytime you step outside of a building. Knee pads are required when in full kit, regardless of the fact that you are not going to take a knee, or forbidden to. Water has to be in a Camelbak, even if it's as easy to carry as a water bottle. It's all ridiculousness that in no way makes any sense. It's part of the Army, the main Army, the uniformity. Us gun bunnies and cows must be with the herd, and appear all the same. It only gets frustrating when you break out of the civilian mindset in which you come into the Army, and when it makes no logical sense. The logical sense part is even worsened when the reason to do it, is just to do it.
The standards of wearing a PT-reflective belt when it gets dark, so that you can be seen better at night (which we're in a war zone in cross hairs, so I'm not exactly sure why we do it.), are the kinds of things that just boggle the mind. To me though, there is nothing more boggling than adhering to ridiculous standards, demanded by possible lunatics, when they in no way shape or form seem to care about us. Perhaps only our appearance. If we look good in death, than that is acceptable.
We've been spending the day wiping down walls, and painting, making the appearance of this shit-hole building we are in look nice. It does look better, and we all take some pride in where we live. It's all to impress someone of a higher level. Does it impress you though... that there have been American deaths within this battalion that have been in vain. That have not been justified. It doesn't impress me that I'm held to a high standard of bullshit, and the things that really matter are held in such a low respect. Yes that's right, my life and your sons life are worth no more than a bowline knot on a weapon, or eye pro resting on my head. Impressed, aren't you.
We're back where we started. Only we're almost done with the deployment. The lack of common sense has never faltered over this 9 month span we've had here. It's about the only thing unchanged. Thanks 2P. We'll keep playing your game, without understanding the rules. I hope that in 10 years I can think back to this deployment and have some since of pride in what we've done here. I'm sure I can look back on our platoon and feel a great sense somewhere, but it's hard for me to imagine this battalion, which has had so much great history to include a member of it played by John Wayne, in any kind positive light. Thanks for the injustice, the depression, and the empty life void.
1944 2P6 Lt. Col. Vandervoot
as portrayed by John Wayne in The Longest Day
All those guys with their chin-straps unbuckled is ridiculous. That would NEVER happen in the battalion. But the Duke can keep his, simply because... just do it to do it.
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